Happy Hour
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: Eleven and Clara crash land in an abandoned bar and busy themselves with alcohol and other things (like body shots maybe) while the Tardis does some repairs.


The planet, he told her, had to be vacated because of a flood and afterwards, he'd sighed, they'd just chosen not to return. _Whole planet_, she'd asked curiously. _Whole planet_, he'd responded.

Of course, it hadn't been quite as occupied as it sounded; the terraforming had just completed and it was an error on the part of the machines that had created the flood and the subsequent desert-like climate. And the loss was considered a better financial move than attempting a second terraform…

"And since then, it's sort of lingered in a sort of real-estate limbo," he told her with a swing of his arms, Sonic out and scanning absently as they approached a dusty looking building – the only one standing properly for blocks.

Clara turned, hair swinging wildly with the whipping winds that sent dust up in clusters around them, "Hang on, wait, Doctor, you're saying someone _bought_ the planet? Whole planet, just walked up and plucked a sign out of the dirt and said, '_This planet, yeah? I'd like to purchase this entire planet_,'" she motioned at the space around her.

"Happens all the time," he shrugged, lips squishing together in a look of indifference just before pushing through the doors with a smirk and she knew, automatically, that he was thinking about the old west on Earth. About being a cowboy walking into a saloon and when she entered she found him pointing his Sonic in one direction, two fingers in the other, and he was making soft _pew pew_ sounds at the empty seats. "Suppose it's what happens when you've got an abundance of planets and an overabundance of money – someone finds a way to _make a profit_ and, in a way, it's good. It leads to settlements, settlers, expansions of races." He aimed his fingers at her, tucking his thumb with a muted _pew_ before allowing with a proud smile, "It's how humanity survives the end of the Earth. There isn't a corner of the universe you lot haven't put a stake in."

Clara only sighed, approaching the stools that sat behind a counter and she leaned on it, then dropped back, then hopped up to get a look over it as the Doctor shifted in her direction in alarm. "It's a bar," she laughed just as his hands clasped onto her waist, yanking her to him and settling her down with a small nod, eyes wide as she chuckled. "I was just getting a better look."

His mouth fell open as he glanced away and then he moved past her, towards a spot around the side where he could swing a bit of the countertop up, smiling in her direction and she could hear the sing-song voice in her head teasing _I found a door; I'm cleverer than you_.

She watched him peek around behind the counter before lifting a bottle of water up into the space in front of her, gesturing at it with the Sonic and Clara frowned, tilting her head, "How long has this planet been abandoned?"

"According to the Tardis," he began, bending again to begin sifting through items she couldn't see – his curiosity bringing the end of the beer tap into his face for a fizzle of a squirt, "Seventy two years."

Clara pushed the water back across and he looked at it over the edge of the counter. "Not drinking that then."

"Why not?" He questioned, straightening and releasing the tap hose and ignoring the loud set of clanks it gave as it fell.

"Seventy two years," she glanced out through the tall windows. "You do realize anything edible has an expiration date?"

Clara turned back when she heard the top of a can burst open and she glanced up in shock as he took a long drink out of what looked like a beer before he spat it out all over the space beside him, setting it down with one hand and wiping his mouth with the other. "Expiration dates are a bit past tense once you get far enough into the future."

"Well then," she said, looking down at the can, "What's wrong with that?"

"That," he pointed, "Is just a bad beer."

"You drink enough beer to qualify you as a taste tester?" Clara teased, slipping her fingers around the can and dragging it across the smooth surface of the bar. She quickly brought it up to her lips with a grimace and took a long drink and then held it away from her face, swallowing and gasping. "Bad beer," she coughed. "But beer," she added as she set it down and then moved around to join him behind the bar, "What else…"

"Clara," the Doctor warned.

"What," she smiled up at him to tease, "Your Tardis is doing repairs; we're stuck on a deserted planet… in a bar." She giggled. "In the future – _future alcohol_."

"Future _hangover_," he gestured with a nod and a hand through his hair.

Clara pulled a bottle of clear liquid up onto the counter and she removed her jacket, using it to wipe at shot glasses, settling them beside the bottle as the Doctor swallowed hard and watched. "What do you say, Doctor? Little game?"

"Game?" He questioned, voice cracking.

Clara straightened and opened the bottle, pouring out an equal amount into six glasses and then bringing the opening to her nose to sniff, shrugging at the generic smell of strong alcohol before grinning up at him, "Do you drink, Doctor?"

His head toggled back and forth before he finally settled on, "Yes, on occasion, I have been known to drink."

Handing him a glass, she took one and she clinked it against his, waiting for him to stop staring at her with a curious look on his face and start looking at the dare she'd just offered. The dare he was now considering, and when he brought it to his lips, she did the same, both now smirking deviously at one another before downing the liquid with shakes of their heads as it burned down their throats and into their stomachs.

Clara reached for a second and she felt the Doctor's hand stop her, his head shaking slightly with the quick effects the drink was having on him as he warned, "Clara, this isn't Earth liquor – this is future liquor, quite a more potent mix."

"Rules of the game," she smiled, blinking at a space to her side because she was feeling it as well, except, Clara stubbornly nodded and challenged, "Loser is the one who relents first." The Doctor laughed and Clara looked up sharply. "Oh," she sighed, "Oh, I get it; you don't think I can hold my liquor."

Shaking his head, he took the glass she held and raised it up because, irrationally, he imagined there were worse ways to spend their time in the middle of what had become a desert planet than ending up crying uncle to a woman half his size – as the Doctor was fairly sure Clara could hold her liquor better than he could hold his, having built up very little tolerance for it. He waited until she'd lifted a second glass and they drank together, both hissing into the open air as the contents doubled the warmth now travelling through their bodies.

"Suppose it would be a good time to mention we've just had the equivalent of," he held up a hand and then dropped it with a sigh, "A lot more than two shots in your day."

Clara was nodding, eyelids drooping slightly as the effects began to double within her as well. She tried to measure her drunkenness by her perception and allowed, "Lots of shots."

"Shouldn't really do any more," he told her, head shaking slightly.

But Clara was already giggling, "But, I've always wanted to do one more."

He lifted a finger and pointed, "One more."

Reaching for the last of his three, she let a hand fall at his wrist and she settled her other hand atop the counter, nodding at him and ordering, "You, on the table."

"What," he said simply, but a smile was already gracing his lips, his legs were already awkwardly lifting him up and she was pushing him down, hands drifting over his waistcoat to undo the buttons and then they fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Clara finally yanked the buttons free, laughing and dropping her head slightly before she shook her head, trying to squelch her laughter.

"Keep still," she argued, vaguely aware that, after two shots, she felt incredibly drunk and she knew – looking up at the man grinning back at her – he was as well.

"I am still," the Doctor laughed, dropping his head back onto the counter and letting his arms fall away. "I am absolutely still. King of still. A Weeping Angel couldn't be as still while in someone's line of sight as I am currently being still."

"I'm going to put the liquor," she told him slowly, "In your belly button."

"Why would you do that?" He said on a chuckle, the thought already eliciting a small tickle in his stomach, then he shook his finger at her, about to tell her she might be doing something wrong, when he felt the tepid liquid drop slowly into the space on his stomach and almost immediately her lips were on him, licking a trail up his side where it had dribbled over and then sucking onto his midsection as his legs jerked. "Clara," he breathed.

Her hands settled at his chest and just at the waistband of his trousers and as she raised her head in triumph, he closed his eyes against the unexpected surge of warmth wrestling with his self-control and he could feel by the sudden tightening of his briefs that he was losing. He bent awkwardly and rolled off the counter, head coming up quickly as Clara mounted it, giggling as she tugged her blouse loose from her skirt and undid the buttons for him.

"Clara," he started, palms resting on the counter as his breath was becoming heavier in the warm air as he watched her stretch out on the counter and flip her blouse apart, "Clara, this might be…"

"Giving up?" She breathed.

He stared into her eyes a moment, seeing the playfulness there, the uninhibited need, and he reached out for the final shot glass, holding it firmly as he straightened and shifted closer to her, listening to the chuckle she offered and he laid a palm against the space just underneath her breasts, feeling the heat of her where the blouse fell away. The Doctor looked over the gooseflesh rising over her skin and the way it curved inward, shifting softly on each breath and when he tipped the contents of the small glass onto her stomach, she released one quick laugh he silenced by cupping her belly button with his lips.

"Oh," she gasped as his mouth slowly closed, sucking at the liquid and lapping at her flesh and Clara's knees rose slightly with a sort of understanding.

He remained motionless, hovering over her, eyes closed as he breathed hotly onto her and then slowly, tentatively, he dropped his mouth back onto her. _Just one more taste_, he told himself, darting his tongue into her navel and losing control when he felt her fingers dive into his hair just as she moaned. Working his kisses up, he stopped at the edge of her blouse and lifted up, pulling her to sit and he parted her legs, nestling himself between them.

"No more drinking," he was able to gasp.

She smiled triumphantly, "You _are_ giving up."

He watched her, breathing heavily with that flirty smirk she always wore, and he shook his head, then nodded to her and told her firmly, "Giving in."

They collided with enough force to shake the glasses under the counter and one fell aside, shattering, but the Doctor didn't stop, he concentrated on the taste of her lips, still drunk with liquor, and the way her tongue pushed hungrily into his mouth. Her hands rolled over his head and then down over his chest, pushing away at the shirt that hung half open as he slipped his fingers over her shoulders and down her sides to find her skirt, working clumsily to hike it up as she undid his trousers.

Clara clung to him, head spinning with some mixture of drunkenness and pleasure as he began to grind against her, fingers pulling her knickers aside to slip inside of her with one joint moan of satisfaction. She shifted, arching her body, feet planted on the edges of the space just underneath the counter as he rocked against her with a desperation they both understood hadn't come with the alcohol they'd consumed, but had been unlocked by it.

Within moments she'd lost her balance, but he grasped her to him as their momentum carried them backwards, against a hard wall where he leaned, but didn't stop the pendulum of movements into her. Clara met his lips again with hers, pulling them between her teeth and then releasing them when he mumbled her name and the single word sent a shiver over her body that triggered a fire in her abdomen.

She gasped and dropped her head into his shoulder, knees tightening their grip on his sides and she thought she might black out when her climax hit, feeling him thrust roughly into her as her body pulsed in jolts around him. Clara breathed in sharply when she felt him come, her hands reaching for his shoulders because his knees went weak for a moment and she feared they'd fall, but he remained upright, holding her tightly to him as he continued to slowly curl his body against hers.

"I'm a bit _spent_," he said, voice barely audible.

"Yeah," Clara panted lightly.

"Guess we both lose," the Doctor laughed, glancing up at her as she lifted her head and joined on his laughter as her chest heaved before she closed her eyes as he massaged her backside, continuously urging her body onto his, both enjoying the remnants of her orgasm still lazily rolling through her and over him.

Clara set her forehead against the Doctor's and she pressed a light kiss to his lips before correcting, "I think we both won."


End file.
